Arlen fell onto his chest, blinded and howling. Voz said, "Still, I said." He knelt and tried some healing spell. "It's not too bad. The Black Arrows seek blood, and this one's been fed." He picked up the shaft that'd struck Arlen and showed it to him. The head was barely barbed and glistened with dark red.

Arlen whimpered.

"Shut up, war-chief. Listen. The high chief has three. Two now. They can follow any open path. We're safest back in the water, as far down as we can get. Can you do... however it is you're doing this stone-shaping, from there?"

Arlen's every breath hurt, but his lungs still worked. "No. I need to see the target clearly. The shore's in range from here."

Voices clamored from the tower's base. Some of Thoko's light troops had begun climbing the hastily made, rough walls.

Voz said, "I feel someone striking the stonework with magic. We don't have long."

Arlen had to gamble. He wheezed, steadied himself, then opened a hole in the back of his tower. From there he saw two climbers. He shouted and made the wall erupt. Those two took spikes through their chests and fell, gagging. Arlen felt little better. He sealed the wall again. "How long before they break the base?"

"Maybe a few minutes."

It'd be long enough, he hoped. He tore open one side of his fort, saw a mage and a climber at work, and made chunks of rock blast them into the sea before closing the hole again.

Voz said, "Thoko will time it well."

"We'll have to time it better. No..." He braced himself against the wall with his good hand, and focused on the stonework. He needed only to see through it. He touched one spot, transmuted it to iron, and at the same time shaped it into a grating with narrow holes.

A Black Arrow slammed into the metal. Voz and Arlen hopped back by instinct, but the missile didn't penetrate. "Two down," Arlen muttered. He looked gingerly out toward the beach and magically locked on. He felt the sand and earth at a distance, where many feet stamped and paced, ready for a fair fight with the invaders from Opaline.

"I'm sorry," Arlen said, and made the ground shatter under them.

In one spot after another, blades of rock ripped out from the island and into feet, legs, groins, arms. The warriors of Thoko yelled and scattered. Arlen's grip on the shore weakened. He fell back, pained and queasy. Somewhere below, men were yelling and striking each other. "The fleet must be fighting the climbers."

Voz's tail twitched. "So many."

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An arrow struck the grating again. "Was that all?" said Arlen.

"I doubt it. Ordinary arrow maybe."

The next enchanted one might strike his heart. Meanwhile other people were risking less certain but more numerous threats than a single arrow. "Let's see what I can do." He tore open the grating a little wider for a better view, still heavily shielded. Again he slashed at the enemy troops on the shore, but they were spread out wider now, some behind the towers. Aha! He shredded the supports for those wooden structures and they toppled, sending their archers falling in a jumble of arrows and fire.

He'd lost sight of Thoko. The man was finely dressed but taking cover. The army retreated farther back on shore behind buildings and trees, correctly guessing Arlen couldn't easily reach that far.

But another band had jumped into boats and rushed into the deeper part of the harbor. Arlen tried to target them using the breakwater but had trouble striking anyone at that angle. They'd be in combat with the war fleet soon. Worse, Arlen wasn't giving orders.

Voz said, "If I can avoid instant death from the high chief --"

"That's you now."

"From Thoko, I can try shielding us from ordinary arrows, using water."

"You can do that? Come on, then!"

"It's not strong enough."

Arlen opened the back face of the tower. Below him the stonework rumbled as a spell cut deeper into it. He couldn't stay long anyway without tougher shaping than was safe to try. He yelled down, realized he couldn't be heard, and yanked Voz over for amplification. "Fleet, land!"

Then he drilled down like an elevator. The tower's center rapidly dissolved and carried them to a spot where a startled pair of mages were tearing away at the cracked foundation with their own spells. Voz blasted them with a burst of water that flung them far back into the shallows. But then he cringed against the most intact part of the wall.

That Black Arrow could come at any time. How much was Thoko obsessing over hitting the two of them?

Really, Arlen was the one obsessing, letting everyone else fight while he hid. He was supernaturally tough; he'd live. Probably.

He steeled himself by strengthening his armor. Covered faceplate, metal shorts, and an even shoddier temporary set of plates on his arms and legs. "Bomb disposal suit," he muttered.

Only then did he remember he had his gun, carried in a waterproof pouch slung on his back like a canteen. He moved it for easy reach.

Voz gaped at the display of instant metalwork, but there was no time to explain.

Arlen forced himself ahead, on a fleeting road of water made by the cowering Voz. Now that he was away from the tower and clanking onto the wet sand, he was ahead of the army. The Free Islands men was driving back the smaller group that had entered the water. Still, Arlen couldn't much help the battle at sea between archers, mages, and melee fighters. His attempt to raise blades from the beach worked too sluggishly. He looked around for the tyrant chief. The man's army had pulled back to the buildings and trees so that by himself, he'd cleared the beach. Which was great except that he was the entire landing force.

A muffled shout. A volley of arrows flew at Arlen. He dived. Several clanged off his armor and one hit hard enough to bruise, but nothing bit through. "I should feel honored." He began tilting the land at his feet, forming a trench and berm. "Come on, people! Join me!"

More arrows fired but only three, like a fluke from undisciplined archers on his left. Then again they were probably fighting as individuals, barely heeding Thoko's orders. But six men charged from the trees to the right, all holding their shields low and ready to dodge and leap. He gave them a reason. The land jutted up at them. One man crashed into a tall shard but the rest were ready. One even threw his shield down and surfed over a spike with it. The five still up were screaming at him, spears raised, lightly armored.